


Every Little Flaw

by whereismygarden



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Golden Lace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2234061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whereismygarden/pseuds/whereismygarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curses are hard to bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Little Flaw

**Author's Note:**

> There's a scene in this story that might be uncomfortable to read. Doesn't really come under a warning, but be aware, I guess.

               Business was slow today: well, business was slow every day, but today it was especially so. Lacey had opened at ten and it was three now, and no one had set foot inside the store. She had taken to keeping several books behind the counter, and she had finished one of them today. It had left her in a glum mood, and she was feeling worse and worse every second. There was nothing for her to do but sit and think about each second passing her by, and feel the heavy weight of the shop’s air holding her still and scared behind the counter.

 

                By four, she felt she might throw up, and she still couldn’t move. It was one of those nights, where she wouldn’t be able to muster the energy to go out, or do more than sit silently while her heart raced and mind turned on without her.

                Self-control had never been her strong suit.

                The summer afternoon was pouring in gold and orange through the front window, and the sun was bright enough that Lacey almost wished she hadn’t washed the windows yesterday. Occasionally, the black shadow of a running child or passing pedestrian would disrupt the light and give her eyes a rest. Her vision only glowed red when she closed her eyes against the glare.

                The bell of the door rang just a few minutes after she had finally put her head in her hands and prepared herself for the crying fit that was coming. Lacey snapped her head up, driving back her black lethargy. The figure in the door resolved itself into Mr. Gold as she blinked back the start of tears.

                “Hey,” he said, smiling slightly at her. His head was tilted a little to the side, and his eyes were narrowed and sparkling. He was here to flirt with her, but he might as well have tried to flirt with a black hole today.

                “Hey,” she managed. Gold produced a pink flower from behind his back and held it out to her. A zinnia, which she suspected he had picked from someone’s mailbox planting. She took it without comment. It was better than his backhanded leaving of weedy wildflowers on the counter, anyway.

                “It’s nearly five,” Gold said, placing his hands together on his cane and tossing his head back. “I could make you dinner.” She  _knew_ what he wanted back, knew what made up their game, their scattered circling of each other. It was almost too hard, but she picked up the flower and studied it coquettishly, brushing it against her lips.

                “I could eat,” she allowed. “And drink, too.” She said the last with a hint of a wink and a half-smile. Gold smirked back.

                “Close up, then?” he purred.

                Dinner was good: it always was, he always had good ingredients in his kitchen. She made the vegetables while he cut and seasoned chicken. It was just on the edge of calming, adding oil and spice and sesame while she stirred the frying pan. Everything that lurked in her heart still circled, though.

                She knew she shouldn’t drink today, but she had two glasses of Gold’s wine anyway, and that dulled her tension a little more, and dinner went by with talk and little trouble. Gold was watching her with a hungry edge, tonight: it was only seven and their food was only just finished, but he was already ignoring his wine and looking at her.

                That would be good: something to do besides sit and cry.

                She practically jumped into his lap after she decided, and was rewarded by his hands clutching at her hips and back eagerly. He pulled her off after a second, though, and stood up.

                “Upstairs,” he said, grabbing her hand and urging her to her feet.

                “Yeah,” she agreed, shedding her shoes next to the dining room table.

                The walk upstairs was shadowy and cold, and too quiet, and Lacey fell back into herself as they climbed. The carpeted hallway of the first floor, with its dark wooden doors and dark expensive wallpapers, pressed down.

                They were at the bedroom now, though, and Gold was kissing her, unhooking the clasp at the back of her dress while he pulled his tie off. The rest of the undressing was quick, familiar, and easy. Lacey slid backward onto the bed, kicking the covers down and grabbing a pillow for her neck. Gold followed, running his warm hands carefully over her, pausing at her breasts, hands, and hips as he settled between her legs. She hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him close, so she could press her face into his chest and shoulder as he slid inside her. He didn’t object, just nipped at her neck with a smile she could feel and wrapped his arms around her back.

                “Lacey,” he groaned, and she pushed her hips up to meet him, all the darkness of the day bubbling up and spilling over her in a flood of loneliness. She dug her fingers into his back and bit her lip. Gold traced his way around her ear with light kisses as he thrust, and she did her best to meet him halfway, though the heaviness of the store and the stairway and  _him_ weighed horribly on her.

                She blinked once, and felt a tear escape, run down her cheek and diffuse over her skin. Then she was crying for real, with no more warning, and biting her lip against sobs and shaking. Gold slowed and stilled over her a moment later, and shifted his weight. He must be looking at her; Lacey kept her eyes shut tightly, as if she could hold back the flood of tears pouring from them. As if she couldn’t see, he wouldn’t see her uncontrollable trembling.

                He went soft immediately inside her, and pulled out slowly, his hand coming up to touch her cheek.

                “Lacey?” he asked, and his voice was pained, soft. She forced herself to open her eyes and look at him. “God, sweetheart, did I hurt you?” He moved again, off of her, and yet she couldn’t breathe any easier.

                “No,” she choked. “I’m sorry.” She buried her face in her hands all over again, no matter that the rest of her was naked and exposed. She couldn’t breathe.

                “Should I leave?”  _She_ should leave, go and have this breakdown alone in her apartment with its stained carpet and dusty blinds and dirty dishes, where it would feel more justified. Lacey just shook her head, and he shifted again. Then the covers were being pulled carefully over her. He put his hand gently on her shoulder, and left it there. At some point, she rolled towards him, and his arm went around her, and he held her while she tried to suck in enough air through her sobs.

                There was nothing else, just the constant light touch of the covers and his arm, and her, shaking and sweating and sobbing and unable, as always, to stop herself.


End file.
